


A room full of mirrors and living gold

by JessKo



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Choking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessKo/pseuds/JessKo
Summary: Admiral Thrawn-You are cordially invited to tour the latest art gallery on Coruscant. The contents are to be viewed individually, as it is a very personal experience. I hope that you will join us for this unique viewing.-The Artist
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Sentient Art
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	A room full of mirrors and living gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExtraPenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtraPenguin/gifts).



> Happy rare pairs! I hope you enjoy this little exploration into what may happen if the art was also the artist~

The message was inconspicuous enough, an invitation to the opening of a new gallery on Coruscant. Lieutenant Eli Vanto read it aloud to the Admiral from his seat across the desk, raising his eyes from the datapad to look at Thrawn once he finished. The Chiss did not immediately reply. 

“Sir?” Vanto asked softly, noticing a glazed-over look in Thrawn’s eyes, not uncommon when the subject of art was brought up. It was a topic he truly could get lost in, as if the sculptures reached out to hold him close, unrelenting. 

Thrawn blinked twice, bringing himself back to the present. “The featured artist… I have not heard of them before.” 

“Yeah, that’s the strange thing. To be able to afford gallery space on the upper levels, they’d have to be pretty well known, certainly known enough for us to know about them.” 

“Or,” Thrawn continued, “their skill level is simply superior. I believe that the date corresponds to scheduled maintenance?” 

Vanto swiped the calendar up on his datapad, “Correct. Shall I respond that you will be in attendance.” 

“Yes, we shall.” Thrawn corrected.

Vanto nodded, understanding the implication well enough. “I’ll put myself down as your guest, then.” 

* * *

The gallery was opulent, or at least Vanto knew it would be just from the sprawling gardens set before it. He was in for a long night of massive oil paintings of nostalgic scenes, and likely Imperial propaganda, seeing favor was likely the only way an unknown artist could have landed this. Not even his Admiral would have been offered a cubicle-cell on this level where natural sunlight actually reached, allowing for such greenery. After months on a ship, it was more than pleasant, and Vanto dreaded the heavy wooden doors which would permit them entry to the gallery itself, likely stuffy and over furnished. 

Just before the entrance, however, they were stopped by two women who stated that they were the curators of the exhibition. 

“First, thank you for finding the time to come…” One woman began, and Vanto allowed himself to be distracted by a rustling bush, some avian creature hunting among dense branches.

It was only Thrawn’s hand settling on his shoulder that brought him back to attention, “I’m sure that Lieutenant Vanto will not mind waiting outside, then.” 

“Sure, absolutely, sir.” Vanto nodded once, quickly piecing together what he had missed, and internally chastising himself. Even if this was not a mission, it was still his duty to act as Thrawn’s aide, wasn’t it? He’d fallen into the role for so long, Vanto hardly considered what being Thrawn’s guest would entail, it was just another ascension day party. These people could come back to them, and better for it to be a pleasant meeting than a haunting next time around. 

One woman waited outside while the other escorted Thrawn inside, and from how the first was standing, any potential peek Vanto would have into the gallery was blocked. She smiled thinly, “Enjoying the gardens, Lieutenant?” 

* * *

The room was small, dimly lit, and utterly devoid of art. It was not what Thrawn had expected, by any stretch. If he lifted his hands above his head, his fingers would graze the ceiling. Thrawn contemplated that perhaps this experience, this smallness, was the art itself. Stepping to the center, he spun slowly, but stopped abruptly when he heard a stifled chuckle from behind him. Perhaps, then, this was not the art, but a precursor. Either way, he would remember it, and utilize the experience in his study of whatever came next. 

“I will wait here, as the art is best taken in privately. Please, proceed.” The woman spoke, gesturing to a gap in the far wall. Thrawn approached it slowly, reverently, and made his way through a plain, narrow corridor. It was slowly shrinking, walls closing in on each other, and ceiling dipping towards an angled floor. Finally exiting into a much brighter space, Thrawn had to dip his head to avoid collision with the roof. 

This was the true exhibit. 

All surfaces were mirrored in a rainbow of colors, predominantly warm, and these caught the movement of the central display. Set on a round pedestal was an undulating mass of golden roots. It was as if one had removed the base of a tree and dipped it in living metal. On needle-fine tips, the roots stood, thickening until reaching a building base at eye level. It was mesmerising as it slowly spun, only allowing Thrawn to view one side as he orbited the sculpture. Idly, he wondered if it was sentient. 

Knowing that he was alone, he spoke to it, “Greetings.” 

The artwork did not respond, nor did Thrawn truly expect it to, so he just stood and considered it all. How the mirrors reflected the movements precisely so that the light would shine back onto the sculpture, adding to its luminance. As he studied the work, Thrawn could find no sign of mechanical joints, or a connection to some underlying mechanism. It truly seemed to be an organic form, moving with natural fluidity. It was beautiful, and Thrawn could not bring himself to leave its presence even as time ticked by. 

Eventually, though, Thrawn knew he would have to look away. As he turned away, though, the mirrors revealed a new movement, and a cool tendril brushed along the side of his neck, causing his hair to stand up on end. Whipping around, he saw that several of the roots were reaching out, and they soon were touching him, pulling him closer until Thrawn stood with the piece on the pedestal. 

“I was not aware that this was an interactive exhibit.” Thrawn mused, and a dreamy voice replied with a single word. 

“Exhibit…” 

“Yes, exhibit. I am here to observe one.” 

“Observe… Exhibit… You…” It whispered, wrapping around Thrawn’s arms and legs to pull itself up until the base was inches from the tip of Thrawn’s nose. The flat top began to warp into a rough approximation of a face, seeming to catalog details as a single probe traced Thrawn’s head. It ran along his cheek, curled around his ear, and stroked his hair. It had been quite some time since Thrawn had experienced such physical contact, and he could not help that his body responded with heat and fire. The emulated mouth smiled up at him, sunken eyes unblinking. “Interactive exhibit… Yes… We may interact.” 

“Do you wish to learn?” Thrawn asked as calmly as he could manage. The roots around his thighs and biceps tightened. The face grew more detailed, beginning to rise into three dimensions from relief. 

“Learn? No, no. I know. Have observed too long, been observed too long. I know.” The head was nearly complete, and Thrawn stared into a version of himself, ridges smoothed and features almost liquid, shining in the fractured light. It was touching him then, and Thrawn thought it might be leaning in for a kiss, but then his face was enveloped by the work. He tried to breathe but only found unyielding matter. Remaining calm, he did not struggle, but knew that if he waited too long, he’d be too weak to struggle. 

His world began to swim as he heaved against the mask, dropping to his knees and unconsciously regretting his trust of the artwork. Was it an inventive assassin? Jedi devilry? The thought struck him that he’d not live long enough to find out, and what did it matter then? So, he submitted to it, relaxing his muscles, and the figure responded, sliding off of him and allowing Thrawn to inhale deeply. “I know you.” The work mocked, voice taking on a more masculine edge. 

“And I know you…” Thrawn breathily replied, sitting up on his heels. 

The face reformed, and it shook slowly. “No, you do not know. What is my name? My species? My purpose? You know nothing.” Thrawn watched as it began to take more of a humanoid form, roots melding together to form a torso, arms and legs. It was lifelike, but all so smooth, as if made from molten gold. Thrawn supposed, in a way, it was. 

“Then I will learn?” 

The face grinned, looming over Thrawn, hand firmly on his shoulder, whether for balance or control Thrawn could not know. “Perhaps. Did they tell you my name?” 

“No.” 

“Interesting. You may call me U’dou.” They offered. Thrawn knew the word well. In his native tongue it meant nothing. Emptiness, a void, space. Yet, this being was everything in contrast. Thrawn’s whole galaxy in this moment was this room, this experience, this moment. “May I take this?” U’dou asked, thumbing at the closure of Thrawn’s tunic. “I am feeling severely underdressed for the occasion.” 

Thrawn quickly shrugged off the garment, and U’dou slid it on with a satisfied smirk. “Interesting texture. How you can stand it is beyond me.” 

“It is not unpleasant.” Thrawn replied, knees beginning to ache against the hard floor. 

U’dou scoffed. “It is incredible what you solid beings will tolerate.” 

“Take it off, then.” Thrawn said flippantly, still patient but testing the waters. 

“No.” They pulled Thrawn up to his feet, arms wrapped firmly under Thrawn’s. He leaned in close, and if U’dou breathed, Thrawn would feel his exhalations. “And before you ask why I called for you, it is because I find you to be gorgeous. I think we are one in the same, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” The pronunciation was perfect, Thrawn was mildly impressed and further intrigued. Perhaps this was sent from his homeworld, some kind of messenger. It was not beyond Chiss technology to evolve this far, he thought proudly. 

“We are both men observed, but not heard. Viewed, not understood. Items displayed, paraded around.” U’dou nodded to himself, satisfied at whatever reaction he could glean from Thrawn’s stoic features. “Or, that is all people think we are. But you are an Admiral, and I am an artist.” 

“You made this?” Thrawn asked softly, breaking his gaze away to again admire the room. 

“Yes, the exhibit is the glass. Normally, the viewer is invited to stand here and do as they will. Seems you will receive a lesson after all” U’dou huffed, sounded annoyed at Thrawn’s question, as if it were beneath him. 

“I am sorry to have intruded.” Thrawn apologized flatly. 

U’dou placed a hand upon Thrawn’s cheek, guiding his view back to look upon his face. “Again I must teach you. You were invited at this exact time, and everything was exactly how I wished for you to find it. I made myself a place where you could easily find me, and now you are here with me. Not endangered or put out of your way, enticed for reasons that are not why you remain now, I assume.” 

Thrawn hummed in understanding, not commenting on that last statement but rather the first. “You wished to observe me.” 

“Yes, see if the rumors were true. I knew your kind, once, long ago. It is nice to see such beings again, even if only one.” U’dou seemed to reminisce, permanently open eyes gazing off to some distant past Thrawn did not know, could not know. 

Thrawn tensed unintentionally. U’dou pulled him into an embrace, stroking the back of his hair, acknowledging his fear. He was, practically, sat in the Emperor's lap at this close proximity. “Do not worry, their secrets are as safe with you as they are with me.” 

“That is what I am afraid of...” Thrawn muttered. 

“Safer, then. There is no mind to be penetrated, no memories to search. I simply am.” 

“Much safer.” 

U’dou loosened the embrace but did not pull away. “Do you feel safe, Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” 

“Yes.” Thrawn lied. 

U’dou just harrumphed. “Go, then, and I will invite you again when I am ready. I would wish you well but you seem to think all will be.” 

Like melting ice, U’dou regressed into the rooted form, now static on the pedestal, surrounding Thrawn who stood in a hollowed out center. Delicately, he stepped away, picking his tunic out from the tangled matter. After a bit more lingering he returned to the garden. 

Vanto reported a room of beautiful mirrors in which he stood in the center of, watching the light refract off his rank badge in a rainbow of colored luminance. Later on, Thrawn would receive a letter from Governor Pryce relating a similar visit, imploring him to visit if he had not already. “She says it is the talk of the higher ups right now.” Vanto noted, paraphrasing the far too long letter he had the pleasure of reading in full before presenting it to his Admiral. 

“Yes, it was quite spectacular.” Thrawn commented. 

“Must have been, for how long you stayed in there. Could you see something else, in the infrared?” Vanto asked, referring to the Chiss’ expanded spectral vision. 

“Indeed, there was much that I witnessed that was not available to your eyes. It is a pity.” Thrawn said as he scrolled through saved art files, searching for the solution to their current crisis. 

Vanto knew he’d not get more out of Thrawn, that is until he reached the next message to blip onto his datapadd. “Sir? It says here that you are again invited to the gallery.” 

“ _ The _ gallery?” Thrawn confirmed with Vanto, who nodded. “When?” 

“Next week, right when we are again scheduled to dock on Coruscant.” Vanto replied that they would both again be in attendance, and Thrawn sent him away, looking a bit distraught which was incredibly uncharacteristic of the Chiss. Vanto just shrugged it off, remembering the last time. He tucked some stray hair behind his ear and made himself a reminder to download some holonovels onto his datapad for the trip, and to bring extra power cells. 

* * *

“Back so soon?” U’dou asked playfully as his form quickly shifted from root to man. His form was more detailed, with a defined musculature and blinking eyelids. “I’ve been practicing.” He added when Thrawn did not reply to his question. 

“I can tell, and you said you had nothing to learn.” 

“From you, I meant. Now then, where were we?” U’dou stepped to the edge of the platform and gestured for Thrawn to stand beside him. Thrawn complied, and began to open the sealing strip of his tunic, but a chilled hand stopped him. “No, something else this time.” 

The hand meandered along Thrawn’s chest and down his abdomen, slipping under the tunic to rest at the band of his trousers. “I know you know exactly what this implies, and know I mean it. Just say the word…” 

Thrawn unhooked the closures and let the green fabric pool around his boots. U’dou beamed. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Thrawn admitted, the sculpture having been a frequent visitor in his dreams. 

“I can’t imagine why, the glass is the art.” 

“And you are the artist.” Thrawn quipped in reply. 

Rather than say anything more, U’dou gripped the sides of Thrawn’s head and pulled him in for a kiss, all teeth and cold and nothing pleasant, yet it was the best kiss Thrawn could bring to mind. U’dou was dry but slick, and his tongue dove deep within him, growing as long as U’dou wished it to be. As quickly as it entered, though, it left, and U’dou tugged sharply on Thrawn’s hair to pull him away. 

Forced to look up, an unseen third hand snaked up to hold Thrawn’s exposed neck, not entirely choking him but holding firmly. “I meant it when I said you were gorgeous.” 

“I know.” Thrawn coughed out, feeling his arousal swell. It had been far too long, and he’d been spending too much time in his bunk with a hand under his waistband since their last meeting. 

“And an artist’s eye can be trusted, no?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” The moment dragged out for a small eternity, nothing but surreal light and this bronzed being looming before him. Then, everything was released and Thrawn was pulled tightly against U’dou. “Let us make some art, then, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I want you to watch everything closely.” 

He laid Thrawn down on his back, and in the ceiling the glass panes were larger. Several distinct, differently colored U’dous lay atop him, his back rippling. Stripping away the last garment between Thrawn and exposure, U’dou admired the Chiss beneath him. 

Looking to the side, Thrawn caught their profiles, and noted that U’dou did not have one distinct member, instead he was engulfing Thrawn within his form, as he did his face at their first meeting. U’dou rippled and probed, forcing his way within and stroking what was outside. Thrawn made a high pitched whine as U’dou purposely avoided that most sensitive spot inside his passage. 

They did not speak, as words were not needed. Thrawn trusted this artist of pleasure, and submitted to his whims. U’dou pressed his face against Thrawn’s chest, nipping and biting just hard enough to elicit a sound but to not cause injury. He watched as, much like his primitive first form, U’dou undulated and shifted, phasing into intriguing shapes which threw patterns of light onto them. He was a master at work, and Thrawn the canvas, throwing his head back as finally he was properly attended to, if only for a brief second. 

U’dou dragged him along right on the edge, painting his strange pictures that would live on in his entity as his masterwork. Thrawn was covered in a sheen of salted sweat, panting and spent and lacking control of his body. His legs wrapped around U’dou in vain, seeping right through a suddenly liquid torso. U’dou held them down to his liking and continued to map out the reflections just so, making sure Thrawn’s eyes were open to observe his climax. 

It only came as U’dou permitted it, putting pressure and friction in place just so to elicit a deep roar that even Thrawn did not realize he was capable of producing. After that, it was a blur of sensation and joy for them both, and only when they came back too, nestled against each other on top of the pedestal, did anyone speak. 

“Your species is truly fascinating.” 


End file.
